


The Bus Stop

by aorivelai



Category: SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: (and summaries), Basically, Fluff, Fluff without Plot, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, I'm Bad At Tagging, It's really just fluff, M/M, Seriously idek what this is, Strangers to Lovers, and fall in love in a week, can't make any promises tho, give it try lol, meanie ayy, so they meet up every morning at this bus stop, yay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-29
Updated: 2018-04-29
Packaged: 2019-04-29 11:15:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,688
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14471493
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aorivelai/pseuds/aorivelai
Summary: Where Mingyu meets Wonwoo at a bus stop and they fall in love with each other within the time spam of a week.





	The Bus Stop

 

_“Do you believe in love at first sight?”_

_“No.”_

_“Why not?”_

_“Because that’s stuff that only ever happens in fairy tales.”_

 

 

Imagine a wide shot of a decrepit, corroding bus station.

On the side contains a peeling advertisement, and surrounding it are the wispy old trees that have seen more than one could possibly fathom. There’s a nest upon one particular tree, one of the sturdier ones, made of sticks and leaves and wire, that contains three little cream-coloured eggs that have been there since the day before. Behind those are the suburbs, a collection of mediocre houses spread across a few streets. It’s not a particularly large town, especially in contrast of the city those border it lies beside. A small grocery and shopping centre could be observed.

It’s cold. This can be portrayed by the dimness of the sun, which is still peeking out from the horizon, by the almost-fog in the atmosphere and the slight swaying of the greenery as a soft breeze flows through the air. There’s patches of frost scattered about the sparse grass pastures, and it appears to almost seem like delicately woven spiderwebs.

There’s colours, yes, the green of the grass, the blue of the sky and the clutters of pink and oranges and purples of the flowers, and of the houses in the distance, but yet, it’s all toned down a notch. Like someone got some white watercolours and painted over everything.

It’s a Monday morning, and no one gets up early on a Monday morning. So there’s a calm silence that reigns even the singing and chirping of the birds.

 

It’s a nice picture.

 

But of course, circumstances can always force us into unbearable, terrible actions: e.g. get up at five on a Monday morning.

So enter Kim Mingyu, stumbling up to the metal seat, and staring at it with clear grimace on his distraught face. His not wearing much; he didn’t realise it was going to be this cold, having never gotten up this early 1. on Monday and 2. in the middle of freaking Winter, and one of the coldest in the past decade at that.

A red shirt with the college name printed out in large caps, and tight ripped jeans. To be honest, he’d just thrown on whatever his hand found when he reached into his closet, accompanied by sandals. In his backpack, his laptop, and half his textbooks. For it was really not his day; he thought he was late for the bus, when in fact, the clock in his room had broken. However, he did not know this at the time, and was in full-on panic mode, not a cell in his brain actually thinking. Alas, this is not a good idea.

 _First impressions always have the most impact on anyone’s perspective of a person._ This sentence spun round and round his head, and he broke into cold sweat, dread sinking into his gut. Had he just missed the bus? To the most important class, out of all his courses, to the class that would determine the rest of his career and _life_ , whose teacher will probably now believe forever and ever that he was a disorganized, incompetent individual-

He checked his watch, and his brows furrowed together. Brought out his phone, clicked the power button, stared at the time.

He groaned, and collapsed, a mixture of relief and grief swirling within him.

Whilst he supposed he’d dodged one death, death by bad first impression, this only would lead to a certain death by hypothermia.

Seriously, though. It had to below zero degrees Celsius.

He was literally dying.

 

It’s a minute later when he finds himself staring off into space, half his body probably already dead. He focuses, and then realises he’s gazing at a small grey bird, who looks like it’s wearing an orange and blue hat, and standing over three tiny, round eggs. It’s a funny little thing, all jumpy and nervous, and they stare at each other. It tilts his head, curiously, and ultimately flies away.

Lips purple, teeth clattering, fingers frozen and every inch of his skin covered in goosebumps, he cracks a smile.

It’s a nice way to die, he thinks melodramatically. He still had half an hour left, and if he attempted walking back in this weather, he might as well jump off a cliff to end the pain sooner.

He closes his eyes.

 

“Hey, you alright?”

Mingyu jolts, blinking as he looked straight into the eyes of an angel.

“Um,” he says, rubbing at his eyes, and blinking again. “Um, yea?”

The boy in front of him is damn cute, and that’s the first thought that flies to his muddled brain. He can’t help but gawk; was this what heaven was like? The other’s got to be around his age, carrying a bag also and wearing a scarf and an oversized grey sweater, blue jeans, and a Christmas beanie on the top of his mop of black hair, some of which flopped over his eyes. He raises an eye, almost amusedly, as he sits down on the other side of the ice plank of a seat.

Then, he smiles at a still stupidly staring Mingyu, who turns away, flustered.

 

Enter Jeon Wonwoo.

 

And he certainly didn’t help the very confused and generally panicked mind of Mingyu, which rears into overdrive. Mingyu feels a particular heat rise up to his cheeks, and curses himself.

He can feel, as solid as the ground beneath his feet, the ethereal being seated a metre away from him staring at him. Though he stares at his feet, he can see in the corner of his vision the other’s head tilted towards him. Those deep, brown eyes fixed upon him.

And then, out of nowhere, the stranger starts taking off his sweater and Mingyu hastily looks away, gulping. A bus rumbles into view in the distance, but it’s definitely not his – it’s going the other way from his college. It’s far too early anyways.

 

“Hey.”

A woollen mass falls upon his lap, and he jumps, his eyes growing wide as his gaze flickers from the jumper to the perfect stranger.

“You need it more than I do,” he said (like a cliché, Mingyu decided stubbornly later, but for now, he had other things on his mind. Like, his voice; it was the most beautiful thing he’d heard in a while.)

“Oh, no, no, I’m fine-”

The bus pulls up, and Wonwoo, now only wearing a black shirt, gets up, swings his bag over his shoulder, and offers a little wave.

“You can keep it, if you want,” he says, before the bus doors automatically swings open and he climbed on, shooting Mingyu one last smile before disappearing. The doors crash close, and then the bus is gone.

 

And just like that, Mingyu acquired the sweater he’ll own and treasure for the rest of his life.

 

But he doesn’t know that yet, so for now, he just sits there.

(In the end, he puts on the jumper, despite his confusion and exasperation and shock, because freaking hell, what choice did he have? It wasn’t like he actually really liked how it smelt, how it fit him perfectly, or the person whom it belonged to – no, of course not.)

(Pfft.)

 

Cut to Wonwoo bashing his head against the glass window of his bus, screaming inwardly, and then hurriedly apologizing to the old lady in the seat in front of him, who just smiles a wide, toothless smile and offered him a little jar of homemade-peanut-butter-and-jam-sandwich-flavoured candy.

(He politely declines.)

 _Wonwoo,_ he thought miserably, _that was literally the most cringey, cliched, and just freaking weird thing you’ve done in your life and he, very plausibly the most beautiful person on earth, probably thinks you’re an effing creep. And now you’re going to freeze to death._

_Good job._

He whacks his head against the window again, and then accepts the candy out of embarrassment and apology.

(They taste better than expected.)

 

 

 

The next day.

It’s a Tuesday morning.

Mingyu smiles nervously as Wonwoo walks up to him, and sits down. A little bit closer than yesterday.

“You want your jumper back?” Mingyu asks, quickly. He’s wearing it, and now that he thinks about it, it wouldn’t make sense for him to just take it off. He probably should’ve thought this through. Then he realises he’s totally fidgeting, on the hem of the jumper, and his leg was shaking, rather violently, and he places a shaky hand on it, swallowing.

“No, no. It’s cold today anyways, and I really don’t need it,” Wonwoo replies amiably. (Wonwoo wonders how the other can’t hear his pounding heart, but that’s just because Mingyu’s to bothered trying to calm his own.)

“You sure?” Mingyu replies, weakly.

Wonwoo just nods, opening his mouth, and then closing it, hesitating.

“Um, it’s Mingyu,” Mingyu says, offering his hand in a feeble attempt to avoid the awkward silences, a field in which he reigned far superior than anyone else he knew.

“What?”

“My name. Kim Mingyu, I am,” he stutters, craving death. “What yours?”

“Jeon Wonwoo.”

They shake hands, like the adults they’re supposed to be.

“You a college student?” Wonwoo asks.

“Yea,” said Mingyu. “Music, actually.”

Wonwoo grinned. “Nice. Are you going to aiming to make it big? Like, pop star big?” (With that face, he thinks, he could probably just sing nursery rhymes and become famous.)

Mingyu laughs. “No, no. Actually, that’s a bit of a lie; I’m also doing engineering, acoustic engineering, but, oh I don’t really know. I’m kinda torn, between taking the risk and trying to make it big, I suppose, and almost definitely failing, or the nice, safe job, which I actually don’t really mind.” He was talking way too much, wasn’t he? He was rambling; now he sounded like one of those sad conflicted kid from a young adult novel. Though, he wasn’t really that far from it, he thought, smiling wistfully.

“Well, I’m studying literature,” Wonwoo said, and Mingyu brings his gaze up to meet the other’s.

And they both laughed.

 

Mingyu has another question at the tip of his tongue when Wonwoo’s bus pulled up.

“Well, until next time, Mingyu,” Wonwoo said as he got up. As the doors closed, he gave a little wave, and then he was gone.

“Yea,” Mingyu replied, as the bus faded off, turning into another street.

“Yea.”

 

 

The day after that.

It’s a Wednesday.

And Wonwoo never shows up.

His bus stops, Mingyu shakes his head, and then it moves on.

 

 

It’s a Thursday morning, and Mingyu’s studying the little bird’s nest from afar when Wonwoo plonks down next to him, practically giving him a heart attack.

“Oh, lord, you almost gave me a heart attack,” Mingyu breathed, groaning as he leans back, to rest against the wall behind him, whilst Wonwoo laughed, before commenting, “Hey, just a warning, if you lean a second longer against that wall this entire stop will collapse. It’s happened to me about five times by now,” to which Mingyu quickly sits up.

“Hey, you want pie?” Wonwoo asks suddenly, bringing a small pie out from his bag, in a plastic tub. “Made it myself.”

“Um, what flavour?”

“Beef. And cheese, I think. I’ve already eaten the other one, on the way here, so I’m too stuffed to eat the rest.”

“In that case, if you really don’t mind-”

“No, not at all.”

It’s an oddly comfortable silence that settles upon them, before Wonwoo interrupts it.

“What were you so intently thinking about before I came along?”

“Hmm?” Mingyu’s already stuffed his face with half the pie. It’s delicious.

“You looked like you were contemplating the mysteries and meanings of life, staring off into space like that,” Wonwoo tilts his head. “Like some character in a kdrama, reminiscing on a lost love or something.” (To be honest, Wonwoo thinks, he has no effing idea what he’s even saying anymore; at this point, he just opens his mouth and hopes for the best.)

“Oh, I was just looking at the bird’s nest,” Mingyu points, and Wonwoo turns, his eyes flickering about the scene before his gaze also found the nest and its little, white eggs, and its dutiful mother perched above them, studying them carefully before contently sitting upon them. “I was just wondering, aren’t birds supposed to lay their eggs in Spring? Or is that just me, never listening in biology?”

“Honestly, I have no idea either,” Wonwoo replies. “Maybe it’s special. But it’s sure real pretty.”

“Yea, it is.”

 

The little bird observes them, curiously, upon her seat. Then, under her one of her eggs tremble, and her attention is immediately pulled away.

And she chirps excitedly as a miniscule crack appears on one of her precious globes, followed by another.

 

“Oh yea, why weren’t you here yesterday?”

“I don’t have classes on Wednesday,” Wonwoo replies, nonchalantly.

“Oh, okay.”

(Mingyu wonders why his first assumption was that Wonwoo might be hurt, or dead, or something. Compared to reality, all his fretting was rather pitiful. And pathetic at that, he thinks.)

 

At one point, Wonwoo’s shuffled so close their thighs are touching, and he flinches, but Mingyu makes no move to move away, and so Wonwoo relaxes.

In fact, it might be his imagination, but the other seems to move even closer.

 

 

And then, the day after that.

It’s Friday morning, the highly anticipated and yet somewhat overrated day before the weekend, and Mingyu arrives in surprise as he finds Wonwoo already there.

“Hey, you’re early,” he says, as he sits beside the other, a stupidly big grin stuck on his face. “Not that I’m complaining, of course.”

“Yea, well, I went to bed inanely early last night, and so here I am.”

It’s cold today, even colder than any of the days that had gone before. They’re both wearing loose jeans and thick jackets, Wonwoo’s blacker than night and Mingyu’s soft blue, with the snug grey jumper underneath.

“And it just so happens I pick one of the coldest mornings in the entire history of this country, huh?” Wonwoo groans, folding his legs up to his chest. “Just my luck.”

Mingyu agrees, looking up at the greyish skies. “I think the weather gods have started the judgement or something, and this is all just karma.”

“Well, then what did we do?”

Mingyu laughs. “Only killed the earth and released hundreds of thousands of toxic gases into the atmosphere-”

“Woah, woah, hold on there, Leonardo DiCaprio. I’ve always had a recycling bin growing up. And biked to school, taken public transport instead of driving-”

“Is that why you take the bus?”

Wonwoo snorted, chortling. “No, no, I’m kidding. I’m actually just broke as hell.”

“Same. I mean, I could take my bike, but I’m legit too unfit for that.”

“Really?”

Mingyu glances at Wonwoo’s inquisitive face. “What d’ya mean, really?”

“I always pinned you down as the sporty type, probably football captain Senior year, head of the jocks, if you know what I mean.”

Mingyu quickly shakes head, grinning. “My lord, I wish. Is it because I’m tall?”

 _…And you have the face of a Greek God. (Not counting Hephaestus; sorry)_ “Yea, maybe,” Wonwoo replies, pursing his lips, before smiling softly. “Maybe.”

“Try: Confused-introverted-awkward-probably-mute-and-definitely-gay-music-nerd-kid with a face with as much acne as there are stars in the sky.” The words are out as soon as he says them, and there’s no way of taking them back, so he tries to keep his voice as passive as possible as he mutters something about his IQ under his breath, but even he doesn’t know what he’s uttering, as he again feels an intense gaze fixed upon him. There’s quite a bit of a feeling of déjà vu.

“Wait, with all due respect,” Wonwoo murmured, swallowing, looking down before glancing back at Mingyu. “ _Are_ you gay?”

Seeing Mingyu’s flickering, panicked, almost frightened downcast gaze, the sudden rigid silence, speaks for itself as the music student struggled to find the right words in the chaos of his brain.

“Hey, hey, it’s all good,” Wonwoo hurriedly says, patting him as calmly as he could, on his back, whilst trying desperately not to freak, or scream, _“BECAUSE HEY, IM GAY TOO!”_ – no, no, no, he should take it slow, he should be careful what he says, shouldn’t tell Mingyu yet because he might not even like him back geez –

“Um, I’m-”

A shriek interrupts him. Well, something between a shriek and a chirp, as they simultaneously turn to see an egg split in half, and a thin, little featherless chick burst out, squawking feebly with every breath in its little lungs, as the mother watched on, proudly.

Followed by another, and then another. Soon, there were three pink little scraggly chicks, breaking from their shells, screeching like the world was ending. The mother observes them once more, before flying away.

“Where’s she going?” Mingyu wonders aloud, in marvel, watching the fading figure of the mother as she flew over the woods and then skydived down, down.

“Going to get food, for her chicks,” Wonwoo replies, yet also in awe at the sight they’d just witnessed.

“Okay, that was actually so damn cool.” Mingyu finally says, as they return to their original positions, staring at the road.

“Yea,” Wonwoo sighs, before suddenly jolting upwards. “Which reminds me – my bus was supposed to arrive ten minutes ago.”

“Oh, wow, the buses are never late,” Mingyu says. “Not even being sarcastic. Our buses are always scarily on time, ain’t they?”

Their earlier conversation is forgotten for a second, as Wonwoo grabs out his phone from his pocket, and taps to the websites, before he grimaced and sighed.

“What is it?”

“All buses are going to be forty-five minutes late today. There was a severe engine failure in most of the buses, and now they’re trying to repair them, I suppose.”

“Oh, then we’ll just freeze to death, then,” Mingyu groans, leaning back. “It’s all good, it’s fine-”

It all happens at once – Mingyu suddenly toppling backwards, the shelter pf the stop above them disappearing, landing with a thud upon the grass behind them, and then Wonwoo instinctively reaching forward, grabbing Mingyu, before pulling him back up.

The initial shock and fear gone, Wonwoo lets out a weak chuckle and rolls his eyes.

“What did I tell you?” he lets out, patting a panting, wide-eyed Mingyu. “It’s happened to me so many times I’ve almost gotten used to it.

He’s still holding Mingyu, though, by the shoulders, and doesn’t seem particularly intent on letting go. And Mingyu couldn’t really care less.  

“Thanks,” he breathes.

Wonwoo smirks. “No worries.”

And then he holds onto Mingyu, holds him close, muttering something about how cold it was, but in reality, both their cheeks were pink, and both felt oddly warm, despite the harsh winds and weather that passed by them, as they leaned against each other, and neither even felt the cold.

 

Sometime later, Wonwoo has head against Mingyu’s shoulder, and their breaths can be seen as little puffs of grey cloud. They’re both observing this, how they could blow away the puffs, trying to shape it like Gandalf, from the Hobbit, wordless but giggling like the teenage girls they’d become around each other.

Then Wonwoo notices how Mingyu has his hands clasped, and he’s rubbing them together.

Sense and reason could wait, as Wonwoo, without really thinking, pulls at Mingyu’s left hand with his right, and breaking it free. Mingyu cocks his head, confused, before his confusion shifts into something else completely.

Wonwoo’s entwined their fingers together, and now grasped Mingyu’s like it was the most normal thing in the world, smiling softly as Mingyu gaped, and attempted to collect himself, though not even death could stop his racing heart.

After recovering as much as he can, Mingyu squeezes the other’s hand, and leans into Wonwoo. He briefly wonders if it was all just a dream, but in the end, he just closes his eyes and hopes he never wakes up. Luckily enough, Wonwoo felt very solid, and his calloused hand sat snugly with Mingyu’s, head leaning against him. Not a word is uttered, and yet, it’s not really awkward at all. In fact, the two are perhaps the most comfortable they’ve ever been.

So within the blizzard of cold, the pair radiated warmth, like a beacon amongst the night.

 

When the bus finally rumbles up, the noise awaking the two from unconsciousness, they exchange little smiles as Wonwoo gets up.

“Well, farewell, partner.” Wonwoo tips an imaginary cowboy hat, and Mingyu weakly laughs, because he’s a tad bit too overwhelmed to say anything, and just brings a hand up to wave goodbye, before Wonwoo’s suddenly leaning in, and then their lips are so softly, beautifully against pressed together.

Mingyu lets a sharp intake of breath, as Wonwoo pulls back, nervously studying his expression. But then his face breaks out into a huge grin, and he’s pulling Wonwoo back in, and kissing him back, though they’re making it almost hard to do so with the stupid grins they adorn.

“The bus isn’t going to wait for you,” Mingyu finally breathes, as they pull away after what’d seemed like centuries. What Mingyu hoped could be centuries, more like.

Wonwoo swallows, nods, pecks Mingyu once more, before turning away before he could decide to quit college just to make out all day long with the beautiful, unreal man that sat, smiling, before him.

He hops on, apologizes to the exasperated but bemused driver and gives Mingyu one final wave, which Mingyu returns, though he’s still somewhat dazed and the movement is slow. Wonwoo smiles, gazing at Mingyu fondly as the doors close, and then hurriedly finds a seat as the bus starts.

 

Mingyu watched, as the bus drove away, out of view, and then slowly felt his lips with his fingers.

“Holy shit,” he said, simply. “That just happened. Or am I hallucinating?” He breathed a laugh. “Holy, holy shit.”

And even if was just for a moment, everything was perfect.

 

It’s the little moments that shape lives.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> 1\. After I finished, I thought it might be cuter if it was a hoodie or something, but then I couldn’t be bothered to go back and edit it  
> 2\. Please feel free to tell me if there are any mistakes! ;-;  
> 3\. as an Australian, I have never seen snow before. It’s kinda sad. So let’s just say, despite it being winter, it doesn’t snow, because I honestly have no idea what snow is like. i have a sad life  
> 4\. I have no freaking idea why the birds are there okay i think i thought it'd be cool to add something about new beginnings or something but i cant be stuffed to write that in - i have so much unfinished schoolwork rip  
> 5\. may write a chinaline sequel


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